World on My Shoulders
by Samsonic1991
Summary: Inspired by Vorpal Edge's story "From the Desk of Andrew Ryan." I would like to point out that none of this is ripped from that story, but its format is merely inspired. PLEASE R&R!


So this is basically an autodiary I thought up from Fontaine's perspective on the eve of Rapture's fall. I want to take this opportunity to encourage readers to check out Vorpal Edge's story "From the Desk of Andrew Ryan" which was written before this. It's really good, and I think this serves as a sort of counterbalance to that story.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Atlas."

It's a perfect fit for a guy like me. Atlas carries the world on his shoulders, and I carry my industry. Rapture is stuck in the gutter, and everyone knows it: I know it, Ryan knows it, that Tenenbaum broad knows it…heck, even those spliced-up schmucks runnin' around Apollo Square know it!

Years ago, I came to this city lookin' for a place to start my own business. Fontaine Industries, I decided to call it. Who woulda thought that a poor, Bronx-born, comin'-straight-outta-nowhere hound dog like me would make millions at the bottom of the ocean? I started out bottlin' sea water and callin' it surface water, sellin' them bottles at one buck each. I convinced an entire city of supposedly self-sustainin' schmucks that bad water was good water. I'm pretty sure Ryan wouldn'ta thought of that.

For fourteen years I sold those bottles, jus' poisonin' everyone with the water they lived in. Fontaine Industries started out killin' kids and makin' money. And then one day I had the great fortune of meeting ol' Andrew Ryan. He offered to give me some sort of job if I gave him a free bottle of water. Can you imagine the type of smug, cheap asshole it takes to promise someone a better life for a free bottle of water? I hated that Drago bastard right from the minute I laid eyes on that cockamamie suit of his, but I gave him the water anyway, and watched as he sipped on filtered sea water.

From there I quickly rose in the ranks and became a hotshot businessman, workin' side by side with that crackpot putz. I wanted to take Rapture to new heights, show this entire city a night on the town. Ryan wanted me to shut my face and keep Rapture a secret. Yeah, Mr. Captain of Industry, Mr. "No Limits to Business," wants to keep me, Frank Fontaine, from bringin' my company to the surface. So I took things into my own hands, slowly takin' the power away from Ryan and placin' it into mine. It started with that plasmid business, splicin' up all of Rapture until their brains couldn't handle it. In any other country, I woulda been closed down and thrown in the joint for creatin' somethin' for people to kill themselves with. But Rapture don't got no boundaries or borders; the place is as open as the ocean it sits in. Ryan don't wanna regulate it, and thank God he still lets these bozos splice themselves to death. Saves me the trouble of goin' around to build an army.

And now, ol' Ryan wants to run me outta town. I'm a threat to his precious balance of power, his little world at the bottom of the ocean. Now I gotta take shelter in this crappy little run-down shantytown of a hellhole, my ol' house for the poor. What a brilliant idea: convincin' these down-on-their-luck bums that I can solve their problems if they just agree to turn their lives over to me, Atlas. I'm gonna make an army outta these sad saps if it takes me an entire year.

And soon, I'm gonna take back Rapture, and find a way to get my hands around Ryan's stubborn, stuck-up neck.

I'm not to blame for my actions; Ryan is.

He's responsible for what he did in his quest to destroy Atlas. This racket began with me, and it's gonna end with me. I'm responsible for what's gonna happen to this city when Ryan's gone. But how to go about doin' it?

ADAM gave this fuckin' place the life it needed, and now ADAM's gonna take it back. Everything's gonna work out the way it hasta, and Ryan's gonna be sleepin' with the fishes.

Ryan's busto, and I'm gonna rise. Cuz I got one thing in my deck that I can play against that Russian bastard.

Ahhhh kid, what would I do without ya? Now, come to Papa Frank, little Jacky.

Come to Papa Frank…_would you kindly_?


End file.
